


Unresponsive.

by CPereira



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 18:20:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CPereira/pseuds/CPereira
Summary: The five times Miranda doesn't react, and the one time she does.





	Unresponsive.

"Miranda?" Andy stands by the doorway to Miranda's office, one ankle crossed over the other. Miranda doesn't look up to acknowledge her presence, but Andy is feeling determined. She readjusts her posture, arching her back and pushing her chest forward, and takes confident steps towards the editor's desk. "Miranda--"

Miranda looks up, but does not seem to notice the deep V of Andy's cleavage. Her voice drops viciously low, "I  _said_ , I do not want to be interrupted, Andrea. What could possibly be so urgent that you _dare_ to disobey my orders?"

Andy sucks in a breath, which only elevates her cleavage even further. This seems to do the trick, because Miranda's eyes abandon her own and fall on the swell of her breasts. The young assistant smirks, "I was looking at you--" And Miranda is looking right back now, eyes still sweeping over the curves of her chest, "--from over there, and you just looked like you might need some coffee." She lifts the steaming coffee in one hand, and points at it with the other.

Miranda blinks a few times. "I," She looks away and clears her throat, and Andy notices that her cheeks have grown pink. "Well. I suppose that is not _entirely_ unwelcome." She accepts the drink, but refuses to look into Andy's eyes. 

Andy turns and walks out of the office with an extra sway of her hips.

* * *

"Utterly incompetent--" Andy can hear Miranda mutter as she watches the snow-haired editor slide onto the passenger's seat next to her. It is two days after, and they are about to drive off to a photoshoot.

Andy bites her lip and drops her head back against the seat. She is left looking at the headliner, but anyone who noticed the sparkling eyes would know her mind could not possibly rest there. "I've always wanted to see you."

She can actually hear the instant turn of Miranda's head. "Excuse me?"

Andy cocks her head and emits an almost blinding smile. She doesn't care that Miranda's eyes are wide and dangerous. "On the cover of Runway." Miranda is looking at her as though she has escaped a mental facility, but Andy still doesn't care. "You are so much more than those girls, Miranda. You're just--" Andy brings her arms up into the air and moves them around a little too dramatically in attempt to find the words. They don't come. Words are not sufficient to describe Miranda Priestly.

Miranda opens her mouth to tell her off, but words don't come to her either. The entirety of her neckline is flushed and her hands are sweaty. She wipes them on her skirt making it seem as though she is simply patting it down and, against her better judgement, says nothing of it. She looks away and out of window.

* * *

That same night, Andy takes the subway to Miranda's house. She must deliver The Book in time, and she has already lost an unfortunate amount of time dodging a couple of entitled creeps. So she decides to jog to Miranda's house from the station, because it isn't far and her heels are fortunately short today.

She's a little breathless by the time she gets to Miranda's, and there's a few drops of sweat dripping down her forehead. She should've really taken gym class more seriously.

Miranda calls out to her the moment she steps into the foyer, and Andy doesn't think twice of it. She takes an unhelpful breath, grips The Book a little tighter, and trots her way to the study.

The editor is sitting cross-legged, and her robe seems to kiss her flesh a little higher than usual. Andy's heart was already pounding mercilessly, but it seems to stretch to the verge of leaping out at the sight.

Most nights, Miranda doesn't bother facing Andy. She holds out a regal hand, takes The Book and spits a barely audible "That's all", which ensues Andy's departure. But tonight, the panting catches her attention.

A small white tuft covers her brow as she looks up at Andy. The assistant tries to catch her breath but fails miserably, and Miranda actually frowns. "Are you feeling well, Andrea?"

Andy blushes furiously and nods. "Yes, I was just, um," She presses her hand to her chest and exhales, "Running."

Miranda raises an eyebrow inquisitively. "Running." She has to repeat it out loud, and Andy wonders how it is possible for such ordinary word to suddenly feel so expensive.

But she doesn't miss a beat. She holds out The Book for Miranda and smiles a little too smugly, "Your pace or mine?"

Miranda stares with an unreadable expression. Then she snatches The Book, sets it over her lap, and slips her glasses onto her face. Something must remain the same, so she doesn't look back up when she manages a "That's all". Andy does feel a pair of eyes on her ass as she walks away, though.

* * *

No one is allowed to ride in the elevator with Miranda. Everyone knows that. And everyone knows that Andy is the exception to the rule.

"You're looking a little off, M'randa." Andy points out as they ride up together a few days later, because Andy is _also_ the exception to the one about never asking nor insinuating.

"Are you to continue to babble, Andrea?" Miranda snaps, but Andy knows better. Whenever make-up does not suffice in covering up the dark circles around the editor's eyes, Andy knows.

The young girl's features are way more sympathetic than Miranda is used to, or wants, "Are you  _sick_? Miranda!"

Miranda scoffs. "Ill, Andrea. And I am not."

Andy giggles. Miranda is unwell and Andy actually giggles. "Miranda, it won't kill you to admit it, you know? C'mon. Is it your head?"

Miranda rolls her eyes--she makes sure Andy sees it-- and turns on her heels so she is facing her assistant. "My head is perfectly fine, Andrea."

Andy is not intimidated. She narrows her eyes, "It's not a cold for sure," Andy is almost tempted to trail her fingers along the woman's forehead to test her temperature. She stands tall, "But whatever it is, I'm sure it can be kissed better."

This time around, Miranda is not given the time to react. The doors open with a "ding!" and Andy steps out, mindful not to stray too ahead of her superior.

* * *

It is past six o'clock when Miranda calls her second assistant to her office the following week.

"Yes, Miranda?" Large brown eyes blink and stare as Miranda licks a finger very, very slowly--this has to be illegal, Andy thinks--and flips the page of her magazine. Andy feels a sudden warmth surge in lower areas, images of Miranda licking different patches of skin coming to mind.

Miranda peers over her glasses, "Were you not looking today, Andrea?"

Andy frowns and glances over her notebook. All seems to be in order. Huh.

There's a spark in Miranda's eye, and she looks pleased to be winning at Andy's game for once. "I do believe you were  _looking_ recently, were you not? You are certainly not looking today, as there is no burning coffee in my hands."

Andy's confusion is long gone. She folds her arms over her chest and tilts her head a little. "Miranda." Miranda hangs onto her own name, and the corner of Andy's mouth perks. "If I could do nothing but stare at you, I would."

Color rises to Miranda's cheeks within the instant.

Andy dares to sweep her falsely innocent eyes over her boss. "It'll be here in less than five, Miranda."

* * *

 "You know, I don't think I ever told you about that time when--" 

Miranda cuts her off with a firm, "Andrea." They are at the townhouse that same evening, and Andy has just passed The Book onto Miranda's hands.

Andy sucks in a breath, not expecting the abrupt interruption, and watches breathlessly as Miranda sets The Book on the table beside her. "M-Miranda?"

The editor holds out a hand, which Andy first assumes is a command to shut it. Andy does, and straightens her back with it. Then, the editor twists her wrist and holds her palm out for Andy, inviting her to...take it? 

Andy freezes. 

Miranda rolls her eyes and leans forward just the enough to reach for her dumbfounded assistant. She pulls on her arm. "Come closer."

Andy doesn't need to be told twice. She takes a large step, and her leg brushes against Miranda's knee. Andy's heart pounds and she closes her eyes, because she knows that she has been playing a dangerous game.

"Open your eyes." Miranda commands, and Andy counts to three before she does.

And she must see something in the grey that flecks around Miranda's irises because she gasps, and a second later a firm hand smacks her ass. This incites a second gasp, and a sharp exhale which sounds awfully like a moan.

"You thought I didn't know--" Miranda's hand lingers, and she presses down on it, "Sit."

Andy's long lost in Miranda, and complies without a word. She straddles the editor and presses her palms against the back of the armchair. Miranda wastes no time, and at the first touch of her lips to Andy's neck, the young girl moans something that sounds very much like "Jesus".

"For weeks, you have been--" Andy feels Miranda's hot breath followed by the scrape of her teeth against her skin, and tips her head back, eyelashes fluttering. "--teasing me, and I never reacted, I never--" Miranda's hands travel up to either side of Andy's face, guiding it down to align it with her own. She goes shock still.

Andy opens her eyes. Miranda's lips are held in a firm, hard line, but she is breathing rapidly through her nose. Her entire face is a dark shade of pink, and Andy wonders if she is regretting the past minutes.

Then, Miranda leans forward so their lips are almost touching.

"You can kiss it better now, Andrea."

Andy looks, and Andy does.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing quite a bit of Mirandy lately, but believe it or not, I am still nervous about sharing my work. 
> 
> This is just a small 5+1 drabble. Perhaps I can find the courage to post all of the others I have written. Time will tell!
> 
> All my love and light.


End file.
